


just (wanna be yours)

by skylights



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Frottage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, absolutely no redeeming features about this, and basically just an excuse to write ridiculous terms of endearment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:45:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skylights/pseuds/skylights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you know–,” Harry says, “–that I wanted to do this for the longest time?” He’s carding his fingers through Eggsy’s hair, a slow, measured motion that’s almost lulling in its gentleness. “For weeks, after they tied you down to the tracks, all I could think about was how lovely you looked spread out like that.”</p><p>“Sorry,” comes the reply and it’s unrepentant just as it is languid, Harry huffing out a laugh.</p><p>“Oh, my dear, <i>dear</i> boy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	just (wanna be yours)

“Did you know–,” Harry says, “–that I wanted to do this for the longest time?” He’s carding his fingers through Eggsy’s hair, a slow, measured motion that’s almost lulling in its gentleness. “For weeks, after they tied you down to the tracks, all I could think about was how lovely you looked spread out like that.”

“Sorry,” comes the reply and it’s unrepentant just as it is languid, Harry huffing out a laugh.

“Oh, my dear, _dear_ boy.”

There’s indulgence in the way that Harry lets his thumb brush over the rise of a cheekbone, hand cradling the contour of one cheek. Eggsy turns his face towards the touch in blind want.

“You just want it so badly, don't you?”

  


* * *

  


Harry has arranged Eggsy into the slightest of curves, a U-shape that starts with his hands tied high above his head and ends with his ankles lashed to the bed frame, legs spread wide open. With his knees bent, there's just enough slack left over for the bare minimal amount of movement.

"Just look at you," Harry is saying in approval as he presses his hand over the flat plane of Eggsy's chest, the warm weight of it rising along with every inhale. "If only you could see yourself now, Eggsy."

He can't though, of course, no matter how much he wants to look Harry full in the face as he does this. The tie that's blindfolding him is one of Eggsy's own, a new, silk number from the storefront that Harry thought would go well with the rest of Eggsy's ensemble. 

"Absolutely gorgeous," Harry murmurs, softly reverent, and Eggsy's breath hitches when he feels Harry splay his palm out, calloused fingertips just shy of the darker, more sensitive skin of his nipples. 

_Please_ , he wants to say. _Please, Harry._

It must show in the twist of his mouth because just like that, Harry is laughing again, a low sound of amusement that Eggsy wants to wrap himself in and remember for the rest of his life. 

"If you want something, you do know that you'll have to ask me for it, don't you?"

_Please._

"I know," Eggsy whispers and Harry is scratching lightly at the edge of one nipple, circling it just enough to make Eggsy's body bow upwards, needing more.

"Is this what you want?"

Thumb and forefinger now, rolling, pinching the nub itself until it hardens, flushed dark.

"Tell me, Eggsy," Harry prompts again, still patient as ever. He's moved on to the other one now, catching the bud of Eggsy's nipple between his fingers with only a hint of pressure. 

"Yes sir."

Eggsy _aches_ , and pushes himself up for more.

  


* * *

  


In the absence of sight, everything else is amplified.

This is smell:

The scent of sandalwood and amber, Harry pressing a kiss to the skin just below Eggsy's hairline as Eggsy noses almost hungrily at the base of Harry's throat, the hollow where the warm, masculine musk of Harry's cologne is the strongest.

This is taste:

Eggsy chasing the bittersweet flavour of coffee on Harry's lips with small, kitten licks, the overly sweet Americanos that Harry likes so much resting heavy on Eggsy's tongue when he lets Harry kiss him open, slow and filthy.

This is sound:

Sheets rustling when Eggsy shifts, tilting his head up for more and more and more, greedy for it, Harry always giving in because Harry isn't one to deny Eggsy much anyways, "I want you to stay very still for me, that's a good boy" whispered against Eggsy's mouth.

And this? 

This is touch:

Harry's hand wrapped lightly around the column of Eggsy's throat, holding, just holding, pulse point fluttering under his touch as Eggsy tries to remember how to breathe. 

"Easy," Harry soothes though Eggsy needs no soothing, the sensation of Harry's hand wrapped around him as safe as it is familiar. "Easy now, my boy." 

He slides his hands down from throat to collarbones then, moves down, down, down, slow as slow can be until Eggsy is convinced that Harry's trying to map every muscle and memorise every movement. Throat to chest to stomach, fingers brushing lightly through the soft hair that trails towards where he needs Harry's hands the most.

When Harry hooks his fingers into the waistband of Eggsy's briefs and presses down onto the bulge of Eggsy's growing erection with the palm of his hand, Eggsy's hips cant up in desperate need despite himself.

"Harry," Eggsy breathes out, " _Please_ , sir–," but Harry shushes him, gently grinding the heel of his palm down onto where Eggsy's cock strains against the fabric.

"Patience, sweetling.”

Harry takes his fingers out then, moving his hand further down so he can trace the outline of Eggsy's prick instead. It's a slow kind of torture, to ghost past the covered curve of Eggsy's glans and sweep his fingers along the the ridges, the underside, but Eggsy takes it just as beautifully as he takes anything else that Harry can give him. 

There's a wetness that's starting to gather the spot where Eggsy's trapped cockhead is leaking pre-come, and it's with a firmness that Harry thumbs at the place, spreading the sticky damp until he can feel a new spurt of arousal, Eggsy making a small, broken sound of need when Harry presses the pad of his thumb into the slit.

"Do you think you can come like this?" Harry asks, voice impossibly steady. He's gone and cupped Eggsy through his briefs, the weight of Eggsy's balls heavy in his hand, cock nestled against that calloused palm. "Fuck my hand and come all over it?"

Eggsy's entire cock twitches, a whimper escaping from him even as he bucks his hips into Harry's hand.

"I can," he breathes and he's chasing after more of that warmth, the barely-enough friction. "Please, I can, I _can_ sir." 

Though Eggsy won't be able to see it, Harry smiles. It’s more than a little indulgent, yes, but it's just _such_ a sight to have Eggsy trying so very hard to be good for him, small sounds and whimpers coming from that barely parted mouth as he seeks Harry out. 

Lifting his hips again and again, Eggsy is thrusting his prick into Harry's waiting hand and smearing pre-come through the cotton until Harry's skin is slick from it all, Harry having half a mind to make Eggsy clean it up with his tongue. 

There’s no rush, though. There’s be time for that later.

For now, Harry is content with watching Eggsy try to get himself off on his hand, back arched and sweat starting to bead on his brow from the effort. Eggsy, bless him, is pushing down hard against the mattress with his clasped hands, trying to give himself some kind of added stability or a centrepoint that he can brace himself against with every new snap of his hips. 

“ _Harry_ ,” he whines, and if there had been a rhythm to his thrusting before, all attempt at that has been abandoned by now, Eggsy just shoving his crotch into Harry’s hand and rubbing his hard, hard prick against Harry's palm. “Harry, I think ‘m gonna come. Can I, sir? Please, please can I?”

Eggsy’s limbs are starting to tremble from the effort of keeping him up for so long, the muscles of his thighs gone taut as he tries to have as much of Harry’s hand as possible.

“You _have_ been such a good boy, haven’t you?” 

In response, Eggsy just whimpers again, fingers interlocked and knuckles gone white above his head, he’s clasping his hands that tight.

“ _Harry_ ,” he whispers hoarsely, broken edge in his voice, and Harry does take pity on him then, covering Eggsy’s cock with his hand.

“Do it, sweetling.” Under him, Eggsy is sobbing, a tremor shudder through him as he chases his orgasm. “Come for me now, that’s my boy.”

When Eggsy comes, it’s a few, short thrusts of his hips and a litany of “Thank you, sir, thank you, thank you for letting me come,” falling from his mouth, Harry feeling a warm wetness spread against his palm.

“That’s it,” he soothes and Eggsy is still gasping, Harry gently pumping Eggsy’s cock through his briefs until he’s wrung out every last drop. “That’s my boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I was in the middle of making pasta when I remembered I had an almost finished Hartwin smutlet sitting in my google docs and uh yeah that pasta is basically ruined now, but hey, it was worth it I guess? Maybe?


End file.
